Double Bind
by Ink On Paper
Summary: Tick, tock. Tick, tock . . . Tag to 10X23 Double Blind. Spoiler-ish. Part II of a finale trifecta.


**A/N: Tag to Double Blind (no, I didn't forget the L in the title, I meant to put Double Bind). So, spoilerish for that. This is technically Part II of the Season 10 finale trifecta, but since I don't have Part I finished, you get Part II (they don't have to be read in order, at this point). Fun fact, though: When I was writing this, the Tony and Ziva that live in my head got _really_ chatty. Must have been the stress they were under. So. Onward! Much love and keep the peace, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned NCIS . . . Adam Eschel would have missed Eli's funeral because his plane got delayed. Or blown up. Or something.**

**Special thanks to tonyfan31970 for the encouragement earlier, it meant a lot to know I was missed. You rock! (not for missing me, of course, but for just being awesome).**

**DOUBLE BIND**

"I jumped across, I swam across for you. What a thing to do . . ." _**Yellow**__, Coldplay_

For several moments, no one moves. The stalemate ends, however, when Parsons asks coolly if Gibbs is going to come quietly, and judging by the entourage of suits surrounding the bullpen, the younger man is hoping for a fight.

Gibbs just shrugs, "Isn't worth the alternative. DiNozzo, you're in charge."

Parsons smiles predatorily. "Actually, the major case response team has been benched until further notice-"

"Like hell they are," Vance growls, stalking down the stair case, fixing Parsons with a look that would send any other sane man cowering in fear. "Mr. Parsons, I don't know what game you think you're playing here, but I certainly do not appreciate you coming into my agency, harassing my agents, and bypassing my authority."

"Director Vance, with all due respect-"

"Shove it, Parsons. I want you and Special Agent Gibbs in my office now. Your associates are more than welcome to wait for you off the premises."

"Director Vance-"

"_Now_, Parsons. And don't think I won't be speaking with your superiors, although I'm _sure_ that my being kept out of the loop was someone else's oversight."

Parsons seems to blanch slightly at this. "Of course, Director Vance."

Vance turns to cock an eyebrow at Gibbs, who in turn offers him a single shouldered shrug.

"Agent McGee, do you mind escorting our guests out?"

McGee nods, watching the intruders warily. "Of course not, sir," he says in what is obviously forced politeness.

Tony watches as everyone begins to dissipate to their ordered locations, McGee herding Parsons' backup toward the elevator and Vance stalking across the mezzanine behind Gibbs and Parsons. Tony turns to Ziva, only to find she, too, has slipped away. He watches as she disappears into the ladies restroom and spends about a nanosecond deliberating if he should follow her or not.

He locks the door behind him and leans against it, watching her where she stands at the sinks, gripping the edge of the counter so hard he can see her knuckles turning white. Her head is bowed and she's taking deep breathes and he would really like to reach out to her, but she's more than likely to maim him at this point. Besides, he's supposed to be pissed at her.

"It's gonna-"

"Don't!" she says sharply, her voice ricocheting off the tiled walls. She lifts her head up to meet his bewildered eyes in the mirror.

He blinks before stammering out an indignant, "Excuse me?"

She seems to deflate a little, her shoulders curving in tiredly, her posture relaxing in defeat. She doesn't turn around, merely keeps eye contact with his reflection when she says, quietly, "Don't. Tony. Don't tell me that this will work out, that we've gotten out of worse places than this. Just . . . don't. Please."

He licks his lips, glancing around the room, searching for something, anything really. But there is no proverbial writing on the wall and there's nothing he can offer other than the harshness of their reality. "What do you want me to say?" he asks, bitterness leeching into his voice. "That we're screwed? Because, actually, Ziva, I'm pretty sure we are-"

"You don't get it, do you, Tony?" she asks, interrupting the tirade that was rapidly gaining momentum. She finally turns around to face him directly, and her eyes are flat and challenging, and she watches as he bristles before her.

"Tell me what '_it'_ is, Ziva, and I'll tell you if I get '_it'_ or not."

And he's pulled the linchpin, surely, because suddenly she is shouting at him and gesturing wildly at their surroundings: "This! This –_all this_! It is my fault! I brought them here, DiNozzo –I, I should not have involved you all in this-" she flounders, searching for the right words before spitting out, "_this mess_. I led Parsons right to our doorstep -to Gibbs- and I am responsible. _Me_."

He stares at her impassively as he watches the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the fire blazing in her eyes as she returns his gaze, daring him to contradict her. He finally just shakes his head, choking on a mirthless bark of laughter that launches sharply into the charged air. "I think," he says cheekily, "that you are giving yourself too much credit."

Carefully manicure eyebrows encroach upon her hairline as she takes offense and moves closer toward him until he's within striking range. "_I'm sorry_?"

But he's past the point of intimidation and he places himself directly in her personal space, standing so close to her that he can feel her heat and hear her breathing as he towers over her. "I said," and he's being insolent at this point, "I think you're full of it, David. This was a joint effort, you know, since we are a team, regardless if you think you're a part of it or not. You don't get to take the blame for this one -hell, some of the records they've got on Gibbs are way before your time and mine. So don't you dare start pitying yourself because this has nothing to do with _you_."

He sees the sparks right before her hand strikes his chest in a sharp slap. "Pitying myself?" she practically spits, rising on her tiptoes to better get into his face. "You think I am _pitying_ myself?"

He smiles at her grimly. "You tell me."

She steps back, smiling at him coldly and releasing a dark chuckle, "Unbelievable. Now you are the one who is full of it." She returns to her previous post at the mirror, her back to him once again. She considers his reflection briefly before realization dawns in her eyes. "Oh my god, you are still on the Adam thing," and her voice is both a mixture of incredulity and exasperation.

He shakes his head, mouth pressing firmly into a harsh line. "No, actually, I'm not. But if we're bringing that up, I might as well come out and say that I'm still on the whole Berlin thing. Tell me, Agent David, were you emotionally distraught at that moment as well?"

She looks as if he has slapped her.

"I'm not going to even dignify that with a response."

Another bark of laughter. "Good, because I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer."

"Leave me alone, Tony."

"What is with you and being alone?" he asks, staring up at the ceiling.

She whirls around once more. "I don't know, you are the one who is constantly bringing it up!"

And, oh, that's the one that did it.

"We're supposed to work together, Ziva! We're supposed to be a team, you and me! This is supposed to be a new us -we are _supposed_ to be working toward something here! Tell me, right now, that you don't want this and I will walk out of here and never mention it again –God knows we've got enough problems on the other side of that door. Tell me we missed our moment and I'll leave it alone, I swear. One way or another though, we're talking about this."

And somehow, they've gone to the one place they've spent their entire partnership prodding gently, if not steadfastly avoiding. The question of what-the-hell-do-we-do-about-Gibbs seems infinitely more solvable, if not safer, than the inquiry Tony has just thrust forth. Because in the harsh lights of a federal ladies' room, the prospect of _them_ seems so much more imminent and real and terrifying than it did in a precariously tilted elevator, a Somalian terrorist camp, and a quiet German hotel suite combined.

She marvels briefly at the fact that they've gone from talking about Gibbs' situation to screaming at each other to broaching the subject of their almost-not-quite-there relationship in less than the span of ten minutes.

"I don't know," she finally tells him, but he shakes his head, refusing to accept her offer.

"Liar."

And she throws her hands up and says, "Fine. Fine! Yes! Yes, I want this, Tony, I've always wanted this."

"For the record, by 'this' you mean-"

"You. I want you."

"Then why won't you let me in," he asks gently, taking a tentative step toward her.

The look she pins him with is pleading. "Please, let's not do this now. Please."

And he almost wavers, almost yields to that aching spot in his chest that softens only ever for her. He shakes his head sadly. "No. No, we're doing this now. Now or never."

Now or never.

"Tony."

"Ziva."

She sighs in resignation, leaning heavily against the sink counter and massaging the building migraine from her temple. After a moment of silence, she finally says quietly, "My father . . . It never was going to end well and I-" She closes her mouth suddenly, as if afraid to voice the words aloud. But he's staring at her patiently, his eyes intense as they memorize her face. "The thought of you putting everything on the line because of me, again . . . I couldn't stand the thought . . ." her words fade and he realizes she's warring with herself.

"And why not?" he prods gently, coming to stand before her once more, only this time much less menacingly.

Her eyes are dark as she stares up at him, completely lost. "Because!" she whispers fiercely. "Because I didn't want you involved! Because I could not have you risking your life for mine! Because I wanted you to be safe! Because I –I cannot live without you!"

And he waits for the Earth to move, but it doesn't.

"But you want this," he says slowly, trying to understand.

His heart nearly breaks at her expression. "It does not matter what I want," she says sadly, placing a hand gently on his lapel. "All that matters is that no one else gets hurt."

"But-"

"Gibbs needs us now, Tony."

"Yeah, I know, but-"

"We need to go," she says, slipping past him, and he almost lets her get out of reach before he grabs her hand and refuses to let go.

"We're not finished, Ziva."

"Tony . . ."

"Tonight, yeah. But that's not what I meant. You and I, we aren't finished, not yet," and as he lets go of her hand, he begs her silently to understand.

She pauses as she unlocks the door and glances back over her shoulder at him. "I know."

...

_A __**double bind**__ is an emotionally distressing dilemma in communication in which an individual (or group) receives two or more conflicting messages, in which one message negates the other. This creates a situation in which a successful response to one message results in a failed response to the other (and vice versa), so that the person will be automatically wrong regardless of response. The double bind occurs when the person cannot confront the inherent dilhemma and therefore cannot resolve it or opt out of the situation._

_Double binds are often utilized as a form of control without open coercion –the use of confusion make them difficult to respond to or resist. _

_- __Wikipedia _(because that's the go to source for reliable information).


End file.
